


There's something wrong with the boy next door

by JaneyDoe



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Antichrist, Apocalypse, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rituals, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Teenagers, War, Warlocks, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-07 10:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneyDoe/pseuds/JaneyDoe
Summary: Samantha lives next door to the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men with her troubled family. Years ago, Sam's dad made a deal with the warlocks to keep his family out of the woods that separates them, due to an accident. Samantha doesn't follow the rules and visits the peaceful woods whenever she needs to. One day, she stumbles upon an beautiful blonde boy and her life is about to be turned upside-down.





	1. You shouldn't talk to strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Like everyone else, I have a major crush on the gorgeous Antichrist. God bless my soul. And I just had to write this. It doesn't follow the storyline completely since I added my own character to the mix but I will try to entwine the storyline the best I can.  
> I hope you enjoy!

They have always been there, so have we. For generations and generations. Just as if we have been waiting for something. We have evolved with the world and needed no longer some old farmhouse to raise our spawn in. And spawn we will have, whether we liked it or not because it was expected of us, to carry the name further. 

Everything has always been so strict. We do this, we do that. Like we always have. 

We never make any contact with the warlocks. 

My father did. Years ago, when my brothers were little. Only to conceal a deal - to never bother each other again. 

You see, my brothers favorite place for playing back in the days were in the woods. Nothing particularly wrong with that. Except that the woods are the only thing that separates us from them. It was just a matter of time before we would encounter each other. 

One Saturday morning eleven years ago, they stumbled upon two of them. It was actually pretty harmless, the two just showed my brothers their magic ability by making some leaves levitate. Unfortunately, their young age allowed them no chance to prepare for something so out of our world so they went absolutely bonkers. I remember when they came home, screaming, talking over one another, trying to explain to dad what had happened. 

That's when he arranged the meeting with one of theirs, Ariel Augustus, and sealed the deal. 

Later that night, he gather myself and my brothers to explain their existence to us. He never explained how he came to know it, though. He also strictly forbade us to ever enter the woods again, by any means, whatever the situation is. Everyone obeyed. 

Everyone except me.

It wasn't that I was a rebellious teenager and wanted to do exactly what my parents told me not to do but when mom left us, after years of depression and an absent mind, without telling us why.. I had to find a safe haven. Where I could come and cry and never be disturbed. I found the perfect place to be the woods. 

My family kept away and so did the warlocks. I could just come here to breathe. And if I some days were braver than others, I dared to walk further, close enough to see that hideous sculpture. Some days it was empty and silent and others I could catch a glimpse of some of the higher ups, what I believed they were, and also some students. 

Their normality confused me. The students, I mean. The older ones practically screamed abnormality with the way they dressed and behaved. They belonged in an episode of Project Runway, not in the middle of nowhere. 

Maybe I was prejudicial. I didn't know much about them. Maybe they were the normal in their world. 

What's really normal? Not me, I'll tell you. Probably not you either. 

 

Present Time

The woods were dangerously still this morning. The smell of wet leaves and mud enhanced seven fold. 

It made me feel safe, secure. 

Home was a mess. Vincent left yesterday after one hell of a fight with dad. It was about those cloaked people that comes here every month at midnight and leaves after exactly three hours. We have been strictly told to remain in our rooms, silent and not to come down whatever we hear. It had taken its toll on both of us. The secrecy. The wickedness of it all. The chanting, the crying, the screaming. Vincent had enough of it and confronted dad only to realize that he wasn't there to tell him anything about it. So he left. Maybe it was my turn next month. It sure as hell wasn't Dante's turn. He knew something me and Vince didn't and followed every step and direction dad told him to. 

"I have you, at least." I spoke softly to the forest surrounding me. A swirl of wind made the trees sway at the top before the breeze caressed my face almost lovingly. 

I closed my eyes at the affection of the earth and inhaled all of it scents deeply. I felt free when I came here. Like nothing could hurt me, nothing bothered me at the moment. To live here, in the midst of the stately trees, it was the ultimate dream. One, I could never grasp. 

"Beautiful out here, isn't it?" a soft, male voice spoke directly in front of me and it made me open my eyes widely. I immediately recognized the uniform before I actually saw anything else and instinctively I backed away in such a haste I managed to trip and fall over a root in the ground and fall on my ass very ungracefully. 

I wasn't supposed to be out here. We had made a deal with the warlocks, promising them of this and here I was, face to face with one. Kind of. More face to legs since I was on my ass on the dirty ground. 

I hesitantly looked up, while trying to come up with something clever to redeem myself with. I had broken a promise. I'm pretty sure it wasn't enough to just say 'sorry' to a bunch of warlocks. 

Blonde, curly hair swayed softly in the wind that framed a gentle face. The boy wore an interested smile, almost as if he was just as curious about my kind as I sometimes was about his. 

Those eyes... 

Blue. 

Were they heaven's blue or ocean blue? 

Ocean blue. 

So soft. They drew me in. Made me mute and completely lose control of my body. 

I was supposed to explain myself. But everything that came out of my mouth was incoherent stuttering. 

Who was he? 

What was he? 

An angel? 

I had to snap out of it. As seconds went by, he drew me closer and closer to numbness. My mouth was dry and my heart was thumping loudly in my chest. Any minute now and it might as well beat right out of my chest. 

He was most likely bewitching me. He was a warlock, after all. The uniform gave me no doubt about that. 

I got up on my feet, dusting myself of from mud and leaves that had stucked to the back of my tights. 

"I didn't mean to scare you." the boy apologized sweetly. His voice filled with deep empathy. 

I refused to look this.. boy.. in the eyes again. Whatever he did to me, I didn't want to experience again. It was frightening. 

"Don't worry about it." It came out raspy and low, and I reminded myself that I needed to get away from here, now. 

"Have a good day." I politely nodded towards him before I turned around and walked away in the opposite direction from where he was, my steps way to big for my small feet. 

"You're Samantha, aren't you?" he shouted after me. 

I stopped dead in my tracks. Shock engulfing my entire mind. 

What did he just say? 

I turned around slowly, looking him over where he stood where I had left him. 

He was smirking almost amusingly at my bewilderment. 

"What did you just say?" I didn't even try to hide my obvious shock. It was no point in putting any effort to it. 

"You're Samantha." this time it wasn't a question that escaped his sweet lips, it was an statement. 

He knows who I am. 

What else does he know? 

"H-how do you know me?" I was stuttering in perplexity, demanding answers in my mind but too confused to be demanding in tone. 

He chuckled lightly and took a few steps forward - I backed away a few. 

"I met your father when he met mine." he smiled brightly, those eyes of his glistening with thrilling interest. 

The answer shocked me but at the same time it didn't. He must be Ariel's son. 

This put me in a lot more trouble than I first thought. He might as well run along home and tell his father about my trespassing. It was we who shouldn't be in the woods but it still was totally free for them to be. 

"You must be Ariel's son, then." I stated, my tone friendlier than before. 

He laughed facetiously. 

So boyishly yet still so devilishly. 

He was definitely not Ariel's son. His reaction was enough to tell me that. 

Something felt very wrong. 

My mind screamed for me to walk away from there. Now. 

Every inch of my body sparked, enlightening me the danger this boy possessed. 

He looked way too innocent that it made me think he was just the opposite. 

He was too beautiful. 

No one looked like that in real life. 

"Who are you?" I asked him, ready to turn around and run if he was about to try anything with me. 

He smiled, warmly, and caught my gray eyes in his bewitching ones, 

"My name is Michael Langdon."


	2. Dream on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically just sexual content.. Dirty as HELL.  
> Enjoy ;)

_The moon illuminated the forest beautifully, every shadow it casted played tricks on her mind._

_She felt as if she wasn't alone, she felt observed._

_The gust of wind made her shiver slightly and hug herself to create some warmth to her naked skin._

_She was only wearing her nightgown and it wasn't covering enough skin for the cold weather she found herself in. She couldn't remember what she was doing out here. Had she heard something and went outside to check on it?_

_She couldn't remember, everything was so blurry in her mind. Every thought she had floated together and entwined to become one, to become very non understandable and confusing._

_A twig snapped somewhere in the distance and it made her jump to her senses. She looked right into the bold darkness where to sound had come from to try and see what it was but it was too damn dark to see anything at all._

_She wasn't able to see the outlines of the trees anymore, she realized._

_In pure fright, she raised her hands before herself, palms right up to where the blue sky and the moon should be, only to be faced with darkness._

_Pure blackness._

_For a moment, she thought she had gone blind. Only to see a figure approaching in the distance._

_It came closer and closer and how much Samantha wanted to run away, she couldn't. She couldn't move an inch._

_The figure walked slowly, as if it was in no rush to reach her and then, she saw who it was._

Michael Langdon.

_Her whole body relaxed with this new-found realization. She wasn't in danger._

_He came face to face with her, towering over her with more than six inches. He was smiling, comfortingly, and reached for her cheek with the palm of his hand to caress it softly. The induced safety his presence brought her made her lean into his touch with a soft hum._

_He brought his other hand up to join his on her face and the action made her look him right in the eyes._

_A hurricane was swirling its way around inside of her body, making her heart beat furiously in her ribcage and her knees faintly weak._

_He's so beautiful. It can't possibly be real._

_She felt the warmth from his touch engulfing her entire body, making her previous freezing only a memory._

_He was so hot. Literally._

_All of her thoughts were pushed away instantly as his lips found hers and kissed her hungrily._

_No shame or embarrassment for the obvious attraction instead only encouragement to act on it._

_His lips was so soft against hers, as they explored each others mouths almost desperately. Their tongues came into contact, lapping each other slightly before he began fighting for dominance, swirling his muscle over hers explicitly._

_Her hands found the wrists of his hands that held her face and squeezed them encouragingly. She wanted_ more,  _to feel more of him. Desperate to the bone for him. Every inch of him. He could feel her sweet desperation, she knew he could taste it on her._

_Michael broke the enchanting kiss and pulled her to the ground with him over her, his eyes never leaving hers as he sat up on his knees before her. His hands caressed her legs expertly, it was as if he knew exactly what made her tick._

_He lowered his head to her exposed skin of her inner thighs and began trailing kisses, teasingly slowly, up to where she wanted his mouth the most._

_And then he stopped._

_Samantha groaned in neglect and pushed herself up on her elbows to see what had made him cease his wonderful ministrations._

_His sensual lips were lined up in an teasing smile and he made sure she saw it before he hooked his slender fingers in the hem of her panties and pulled them off of her legs agonizingly slow. She knew he did it only for her to become more desperate and needing for his ultimate touch._

_The first touch between his mouth and her exposed, quivering heat felt like heaven - No.. Better than heaven. It felt like she had bit into the most deliciousness of a forbidden fruit. It was a filthy, sexual, non-Godly paradise and she never wanted to leave._

_She let out the absolutely most filthy moan she possibly could conjure and it spurred Michael on notably as he sucked her aching clit in between his delicate lips. He increased her pleasure by a thousand when he inserted one of his skilled fingers into her wanting heat to accompany his now stroking tongue at her nub._

_One of her hands traveled down to his head where it was buried between her trembling thighs and she interlaced her fingers with his gorgeous blonde locks._

_He added another finger and pumped them steadily inside of her._

_She whined out loudly._

_He swirled the hardened tip of his tongue over her before he sucked on her hungrily, unashamedly and purely maddening._

_She pulled at his locks, desperate for the oncoming release._

_He knew how good he made her feel, how close she was.. She could feel him smirking proudly against her and that pushed her dangerously close._

_Any second, any moment._

_It will only take a swirl of that magic tongue of his and she would completely explode like a fucking nuke._

 

* * *

 

 

That night I dreamt of the mysterious boy, Michael Langdon. 

I was so utterly ashamed when the contents of the dream came back to me. Every scene, every action. 

I felt so dirty because I had never dreamt anything like it  before. It had felt so real. 

I realized that I had made a complete mess in my underwear.

I was so goddamn wet and horny that it scared me a little. It was just a dream. Every teenage girl probably have these about pretty boys. 

But why was I  _still_ so aroused? And why wouldn't he just go away from my thoughts? 

A deep sigh escaped my lips and I reached my hand down in my panties in defeat. 

Never had I been this wet before in my entire life. It was ridiculous how easy it was to rub myself into that familiar sensation. But still, it didn't feel enough. 

I pictured the mysterious boy undressed before me with those beautiful eyes all over me as I pumped two of my digits inside of me, pretending wholeheartedly that it was his fingers bringing me the pleasure that came with it. 

"Mmmmnggh.." I bit my lip dangerously close to breaking the skin, preventing myself from letting any more sounds escape my mouth and alert anyone of my dirty deeds. 

It didn't take much this time with that the dream already had aroused me beyond belief. 

I came hard, my eyes shut tight and my mouth open wide in a silent scream from the sheer pleasure all of it had given my body. 

I exhaled heavily, my eyes open to reveal my dull room before me. 

I extended my hand as if I just had burned myself when I came down from the high. 

I wasn't aroused anymore. I felt confused.

This wasn't  _me_. Sure, I had pleased myself before but this.. This was entirely different. It felt so ungodly dirty and strange as it felt to even think of it, it felt like it had been  _forced_ on me. Even if it was I who had done it myself. 

It felt like he had nestled himself into my head with those goddamned enchanting eyes and made me do this. 

But, that kind of magic can't be anything they teach at Hawthorne, can it? 

 


	3. My father and his

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. I've been working and working.. Just got a new job! But.. Here you go!

I have stayed away from the forest ever since that dream. Something was just not right with that boy and even though I'm only eighteen, I am old enough to know that with a face like his, comes only trouble.

He's been occupying every single dream I've dreamt now for one week straight but they haven't been as  _sexual_ as the first one. The dreams have been pretty normal, scenes from my everyday life but the thing that made me wary was that he was there. He just were there.. Sometimes in the mass in my school, sometimes eating dinner casually with my family and the most bizarre one - in the background, observing completely indifferently, as my mother left us. 

I do not know what to make of any of this. 

Was I experiencing what they call a  _crush_?

No. That can't be. 

That was supposed to feel all amazing and this just feels forced. Something inside of me tells me to just let it bloom and still, my mind tells me to get away from it and not think of him ever again. 

That was a hard one, though. 

He was making himself busy by going through my mind,  _all the time_.

* * *

 

 

I was making my way down the stairs for dinner, nervousness consuming my entire being. 

I had made my mind up. 

I  _needed_ to ask dad about this Michael Langdon. Because, as he had said, our fathers have met each other and that must mean he knows something about him. 

This of course makes me reveal my broken promise. That I had been in the woods, even though dad was very clear about that I was not to do it. 

I was met by the divine smell of fresh cooked pasta when I descended from the stairs. Dad's speciality. Kind of the only thing he doesn't burn. 

I sat down on the opposite side of dad and Dante by the table and began serving myself in silence. But in all honesty, I just tried to muster as much courage as possible to ask what I want to know. What I  _needed_ to know. 

I gazed up from my platter full of pasta and tomato sauce and met dad's emerald eyes that already was looking at me. He seemed very aware that I had something on my heart but he didn't force it out of me. He just sat back, his platter untouched, while he was surveying me deeply. 

My eyes wandered over to Dante who was busying himself with shoving the food into his mouth so rapidly it reminded me of someone who hasn't laid their eyes on anything eatable for weeks. At least, he was completely blunt to my behavior. 

"Dad, I need to confess something." I finally spoke out with the breath I had been holding in. 

"I'm all ears." he nodded as he clasped his hands in his lap. 

"It is probably going to disappoint you very much but I need you to answer some questions I have even if it may do so." 

Dante teared his eyes from his food to watch us hesitantly, clearly feeling the tension that my words built in the tiny area of the kitchen. 

"I can promise you that I'll try." his eyes were displaying nothing of what was going on inside of him and it made it even harder for me to press the words out. 

The last thing I wanted was to disappoint him but I was desperate to know what has been gnawing me this entire week. If I just aborted my mission, I'll might just go utterly insane out of frustration. 

"I've been to the woods. More than once. Last time was one week ago." I confessed ashamedly, my eyes looking everywhere but directly at him. Instantly, it made my heart a little bit lighter by the guilt I've been having for disobeying. 

"I know, Sam."

I surely looked exactly as confused and bewildered as Dante was. His mouth was agape and his green eyes as wide as physically possible. 

"You what?" Dante exclaimed, his food now long forgotten. It was hard to tell if it was directed towards me or dad since he was looking between us rapidly. 

"I only assumed it brought you some kind of calmness since you've been very obedient otherwise, compared to Vincent, I mean."

If Dante wasn't so damn shook he would've bashed in the praise that was embedded in dad's words. He was the golden child, for sure, with the way he follows dad's every word. Vincent was the one that followed his own steps while I merely was the one that was neither. I just  _existed_. In silence. 

"I met someone there last week and he.." I trailed off my words, uncertain of what to actually share with him. It would be very bold and extremely shameful to admit what this Michael had done to me mentally, so it'll be for the best to keep that part to myself. For now, at least. 

"I met a boy there, my age presumably, Michael Langdon. Someone you know about?" I flushed the words out too fast, they floated together in a gasp and I was uncertain that he had heard any of it. 

Until he got that strange look in his eyes. 

Dark and cold yet interested at the same time. 

Nothing I've ever witnessed him present before and with the silence it followed, I almost grew frightened. Of my own father. 

"He said that he knew who I was, since you've met his father." I explained hurriedly, afraid that the look he was giving me was because he thought I had done  _something_ with Michael. 

Dante excused himself from the table and hurried upstairs without even looking at me. As if something had scared him. 

Dad leaned forward with his elbows propped up on the surface of the table, his auburn colored hair that matched mine fell before his eyes like a curtain, shielding them slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead he chuckled lowly and nodded his head as if he was approving of something. 

He was acting out of character. Disturbingly odd enough for me to keep my mouth shut and deciding on whatever his ties was with Michael's father wasn't important anymore. 

But then he stopped and got quiet. 

His determine eyes boring into my confused gray ones. 

" _It has begun._ " 

 


	4. The Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dark as hell. Do not read if you're queasy.  
> Brb bathe in holy water.

My eyes were open now. 

Everything's so much clearer than it has ever been before. Mom and Vincent's departures. Dad's behavior throughout the years.. 

How could I have been so naive? 

I was so scared. 

What those people did to me last night.. I was appalled that I still was breathing. 

The anger was filling my battered body as I was laying naked on the covers of my bed, consuming it completely almost. 

Mom and Vincent - they  _knew_. 

And still, they had left me behind. 

Why? 

* * *

 

_**The night before, 2:50 am.** _

My mind was blurry. My thoughts floated together and became non understandable, exactly as they had been in that dream. 

I couldn't move much and the numbness became worse with every passing minute. Soon, I'll be completely immobile. 

I could hear shuffling and muffled voices all around me but I wasn't able to see anything at all. 

Was I that far gone or was something covering my eyes? 

I couldn't tell. I wasn't able to feel  _anything_.

 _Dante_. 

I heard Dante's soft voice somewhere around me. I couldn't make out the words, though. It was almost as if they were in an foreign language. 

I was still able to move my head around, so I did, to try to see something that would soothe me in my current state. 

_What the fuck is this?_

Dante spoke louder this time. It felt like someone had pulled a pair of earplugs out of my ears because now, I could hear everything  _perfectly_.

I also remembered. 

I had been furious with dad and kept myself locked up in my room, crying my eyes out. 

I remembered exactly why, too. 

He had been acting stranger and stranger ever since I had mentioned Michael three days ago and I had had enough of it. 

Enough of the dark  _things_ he had brought out on display in the entire house. 

The drop was when he had painted an upturned cross on my bedroom door with pigs blood, chanting manically, refusing to cease his horrible actions when I begged him to. 

Dante brought me tea after a few hours. 

There had been something very wrong with that cup of tea. 

It had tasted bitter and when I spat it out, he had  _forced_ it down my throat. 

It was something in it - something that immobilized my body but not my mind. 

I tried to scream but the only sounds that escaped my mouth was pained groans. Tears flooded my eyes as I realized what they were mumbling about around me. 

_Hail Satan.._

_Hail Satan.._

_Hail Satan.._

The veil over my eyes were lifted and I was able to see, finally. 

Or so, I thought. 

I rather had been blind to the scene before and around me. 

I was completely naked, sprawled out on the floor of our living room. Around me were five people, clothed in black cloaks, looking at something before me. 

Dad and Dante was among them, their eyes glistening with thrilling fascination at the same thing as the other two females and man were staring at. 

My eyes widened in pure horror and I wanted to scream my lungs out, kick, anything that would make them stop. 

There he was, a black cloak being his  _only_  clothing, before me.

_Michael Langdon._

Evil reincarnated. 

Now, I knew. 

He looked down at me, his blue eyes that once hooked me so greatly seized in my exposed form unashamedly. His entire being were determined. As if he was on a mission that he couldn't afford to fail. 

"We all put our beliefs in you, and our Lord. Faithfully." the bigger one of the women spoke, directly to Michael. Her tone sounded dangerously close to one a mother uses to encourage her child to do something bravely. 

It was bizzare. 

They were about to hurt me, I knew it, and Michael wasn't a child. 

I don't know what he is. 

His demeanor was different than the last time. He had seemed boyish, dangerous then too but now it was on a whole different level. 

He was consuming me with those eyes of his and he was..-

I had to look twice. 

He was fully erected, the tip of his cock peeking out from the cloak in all its glory. 

They weren't going to let him, do  _that_ to me, right? 

Panic like I've never experienced before engulfed me threateningly.

First of all, I had never done anything like that before. It was the first time I've seen a man's privates. I had kept my virginity. 

For the right guy. 

It was purely sinister. To take a woman's most private thing without her consent. 

And that was why they was about to do it. 

Michael kneeled down before me, his eyes never leaving mine as he did so. His hand disappeard into his cloak and appeared only a few moments later, now clutching a sharp, silver knife. The blade shined wickedly in the light of the candles that surrounded us both.

My eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as I laid them on the hurtful, sharpened item in his firm hands. 

_**Ding dong** _

The grandfather clock back in the hall alerted us that it was time. I could tell because he put the blade against the skin of my naked thigh hastily, as if he had been waiting. 

He pushed the fine side of the knife into my skin and dragged the blade downwards, immediately tearing the skin and letting the blood seep from the wound with a twisted sneer upon his face. 

Everyone around us inhaled sharply, clearly bashing in the torture scen before them. I tried to scream but to no avail. It stinged like a bitch but I could see that it wasn't deep enough to cause me any real harm. 

Michael lifted the knife to my other thigh and repeated the same movement with the same outcome. I winced this time but decided to not look at it. It was better to just lay back and close my eyes. To think of something else, something peaceful. 

I thought about the old days when me and mom used to have tea parties with all of my well groomed dolls. She was smiling so brightly, playing her part better than good. Addressing my dolls by name and serving them tea after every doll's particular taste. She had memorized everything.

Just for me. 

The knife was lifted from my skin once again and I embraced myself for another round of pain but it never came. 

Michael groaned deeply down in his throat in a mixture of pain and satisfaction. 

One of the women expressed a soft 'ah' and my eyes flew open in confusion. 

His right arm was bleeding heavily from an open vertical lined wound that was way deeper than the ones he had done at my thighs. The blood was practically running down his arm and onto my knees and thighs. 

He did not appeared much bothered about the amount of blood he was losing every passing second  as he went for his left arm and cut into it too, slowly, pouring his red body fluid onto me with closed eyes and his lip in between his sharp teeth. 

The knife was tossed to the side before he went for the cloak, removing it flagrantly to join the knife, exposing his nude form before everyone in the room. 

His eyes opened and buried themselves into mine, no emotions laying beneath the soft blue. 

It was chillingly quiet. 

He took a firm grip of his cock and coated it in our blood while he pumped it determinedly, as if it could get any harder than it already was. 

The unoccupied hand reached out for my legs where he spread them open by the knees, allowing him room to get between them perfectly as he moved in closer to settle himself there. 

I  _stared_ him down defiantly. I couldn't move but I wasn't going to not let him know what I felt about this. 

He let go of himself and placed his hands on either side of my hips earnestly and with one swift thrust, he was buried deep within me. 

He  _moaned_ out in what sounded like genuine bliss - I chooked on my own breath, the insufferable burn it caused to my unprepared and unused pussy brought tears of torment in my eyes. 

He either wasn't troubled by it or he simply just didn't notice. 

I believed in the latter as he settled into a steady rhythm, moaning explicitly with every thrust he was delivering.

The pain ebbed away pretty fast to my liking even though it was exchanged by discomfort. He was driving into me pretty easily now because of the blood that provided some kind of lubrication.

His bloodstained hands held onto me for dear life as he increased the rhythm and flung his head back with one of the most pleasure filled whines I've ever witnessed before.

He legitimately found this enjoyable. 

I closed my eyes shut, everything's got way too much for me to handle. The tears running down my cheeks, I felt so disgusted and shamed with each upshot he deposited into my stretched pussy and the way the discomfort began to dissolve to be replaced by a warm, tight, tingling sensation. 

My family was watching us, closely. So was the other three strangers but Michael fucked me like there were no one else but us on the entire planet. 

One of his rough hands traveled from my hips up to my abdomen, smearing the blood from his hand onto my heated skin in the making. His hand finally found one of my naked breasts and it encircled the soft flesh, groping it lustfully. 

I lost myself scandalously sometime after that.

The heat grew hotter and hotter in between my legs, impossible to ignore any longer. Desperately, I threw my head to the side, my cheek pressed against the floorboards.

I cried out  _vehemently_. 

"Yeah, I know  _baby_ , it's.. aah.. divine.." Michael groaned deeply, tightening his grip on my hip and abandoning my breast to hold me by the throat firmly which also caused him to tower over me. 

Firmly enough to make it  _feel_ but not to deprive me of oxygen. 

All shame had left my body. Not one ounce of it anywhere in sight. 

I craned my head to watch him. 

There was blood.  _Everywhere_. 

I couldn't tell anymore if it was his or mine. All of it was mixed together as one. Just as we were. 

His eyes rolled back into his skull as he inhaled deeply. 

And then he closed them shut. 

He was so beautiful. So messy, yet so graceful. His locks were glued at his sweaty forehead and his lips slightly parted. 

His eyes opened slowly. 

A blackness, darker than anything I've seen before welcomed me instead of his usual blue and I could  _sense_ that he was watching me even though the blackness that had taken over his eyes would've made it impossible to tell. 

His mouth opened as his hips jerked erratically, alerting me of his longing release.

His voice were distorted and demonic when he uttered the most terrifying thing I would ever hear. 

" _ **Ave Satanas** "_


	5. Wrath and pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's angrier than a bitch!

The fury had made itself into my very soul. I reeked of it. 

This kind of hate and anger was not usual for me but now, it was the only thing that kept me going. 

I have embraced it. 

I'm not talking about dad or Dante. I've given them what they deserve. Even though I am pretty sure they'll get out of it with the help from the one they sold their souls to. It doesn't bother me especially much. They've felt a little taste of what I'm capable of and next time they make decisions for me, I'll sure as hell won't make it as easy with starvation and confinement as they are suffering from right now as I speak. 

Next time I'll  _burn_ them. 

Now, my mission, my ultimate fucking fury, is to find mom and Vincent. 

What they did was unforgivable. 

To leave me behind when they knew what was to come. Well, mom knew for sure at least. 

Questioning dad hadn't been hard at all after the ritual. He opened up to me, sharing  _everything_ with me. He probably thought I would succumb to the darkness after finding out who I was and how I came to be. 

Well, I did. But clearly not in the way he's been picturing. To crush that dream right before his eyes brought me satisfaction beyond recognition. Nothing I've experienced before had ever felt as good as it did. 

We're satanists. For generations and generations, we've been living in the same house, bringing spawns onto this godforsaken earth. Everyone of us devoting their lives to satanism without even questioning about it. A prophecy, revealed for two centuries ago told our ancestors that we were to play a big part in the rise of the Antichrist. One of us, unnamed and unidentified until eighteen years ago, were going to devote his or hers life fully to the sake. To be whatever was needed by the spawn of Satan - a maternal figure, guide, sibling, lover, child.. And so the list goes on. 

The role had showed itself to be mine. 

Mom and dad conceived me during one black mass almost two decades ago. It had been sinister and dark. As devilish as it possibly could be, dad had told me, a wide and wicked smile upon that face I once looked at with admiration. 

I wasn't about to devote myself to Michael. I knew my attraction to him was there for a  _reason_ now and that I was not to be blamed. I hadn't asked for any of this. 

Still, the ritual had changed me. 

It had rottened me and made me bitter. And with that, I had made up my mind. 

I needed to make them  _suffer_. 

I was provided with one last thing of vital information from dad before I bolted the basement door, leaving them both in complete darkness to vey for themselves. 

_"They've seeked refuge with the witches' most powerful woman, the Supreme, in New Orleans. Ms Robichaux's Academy. Covering into the bone for what's to come and come it will, you won't be able to refuse him, Samantha!"_

Watch me curve the motherfucker, bitch. Shove the fucking prophecy up your ass. 

* * *

 

It wasn't hard to find Robichaux's with it being all over the internet. People still talked about Cordelia Goode's revealing. The Supreme. Witches, warlocks.. Magic.

Twisted as people are, they've come up with an conspiracy theory about the Harry Potter books being true and in fact J.K Rowling's autobiography with a few changes of course. She's still leaving no comments about the theory, leaving her fans to believe that she's trying to dodge the real truth. 

But, seriously, what do I know?  

Two months ago I would've laughed straight up in dad's face if he had revealed the truth about me. Now though.. I knew he wasn't crazy or lying. Probably crazy, yes, but still telling the truth. 

I think I already knew my 'purpose' when Michael claimed me but since I wasn't going to have it, I straight up put it up on a dusty shelf with no thoughts of bringing it down ever again. 

I wasn't after bringing hell on earth or whatever. I just want  _revenge._

_-_

The entire place was as big as my highschool. If not bigger than so. 

It was huge. 

And guarded by a gigantic black fence that surrounded the whole perimeter. Useless beyond words since it wasn't made with a lock to keep it believable. 

I gripped the cold handle and pushed it down, the gate opened noisily but rewarded me entrance. I walked inside and closed the gate behind me - simply from learned courtesy. 

I inhaled and determinedly made my way towards the front steps and when I reached the first step, the front door opened to reveal a tall woman with curly blonde hair and an black knee-length dress accompanied by an flowery shawl draped around her shoulders. 

I continued walking towards her, unbothered by her sudden appearance and it caused her great unease. Her soft, kind blue eyes were filled with concern as she blocked my path in the doorway. 

"You're trespassing on private property. If you're here for Ms Cordelia, you need to book a meeting beforehand." she instructed me apprehensively, remaining in place as I came face to face with her. 

"I'm not here for Cordelia." I stated matter-of-factly, "I'm here for my mother and brother that I've been informed you're keeping in here." I explained sincerely as I nodded towards the entrance into the mansion. 

"This is a school, Ms..?" she wouldn't budge, I could tell. She was a fiery soul that wouldn't give up a fight so easily. She looked as dead as I felt with dark rings under her eyes and matte complexion and she most likely was a witch. There was a good chance she wouldn't deal with any shit out of tiredness and just bewitch me. I needed to work around her on another level. By earning her trust. 

"Please, Miss." I smiled desperately and leaned in closer to her unnoticed, "Vincent and Jenna Planchart. I really need to talk to them. You can't imagine what I've been through, please!" 

Her two blue orbs of eyes surfaced authentic empathy as I wailed out the words in despair that I had coated in false helplessness. 

But she didn't move out of the way. 

"I'm sorry, you'll have to book a meeting with the Supreme if you want to get into this house." she nodded half heartedly, obviously conflicted by denying a young desperate girl entrance into the establishment. 

I snapped. 

In a blink of an eye, my small hands was around her frail throat and she stumbled backwards down to the floor in the foajé with me on top of her. 

I squeezed with as much force as I could bestow, without knowing exactly  _why_ I was suffocating this woman. She wasn't the one I was after. 

I didn't stop even after the realization that she wasn't the enemy. I kept going in a frenzy, squeezing and yelling profanities breathlessly. Unfortunately, she had been the first barricade on my mission and that wasn't very wise of her. If she just had let me in and kept the standards somewhere else, it would've been easier. 

A shocking lightening of pain rocked through my entire body and caused me to fly ten inches above the floor and into the opposite wall of the front doors. 

High heels clicking onto the floor alerted me that we weren't alone anymore and it became an reality as female voices accompanied them, asking the woman I had hurt how she was and then I felt a rough hand pulling me by the neck of off the floor where I had fallen into a heap.

Green eyes stared at me defiantly for a second only to be replaced by shock. 

"Sam!" Vincent exclaimed, unsure of what to do next. His hand was still around my neck and he looked so conflicted. My dear big brother. 

He came to his senses and let go of my throat to embrace me affectionately. Sniffling into my neck out of agony. 

Probably because he left me without his protection. 

"Don't tell me she's..-" one of the girls that had helped the blonde woman up on her feet spoke but got quiet in the middle of the sentence, her eyes fixed upon something directly behind my tall brother. 

"Let go of her, Vincent." the words were uttered strangely commandingly and it caused Vincent to turn around halfway with his arms still around mine, to allow me the view I never thought in my wildest dreams I would ever see. 

Mom stared me down fixedly with her gray eyes, as if  _I_ was the enemy. She pointed a Walther P99 pointblank at me, the barrel of the gun stared threateningly back at me. 

"Mom, what are you doing?" he replied apprehensively, looking the gun pointed at me over carefully. 

"Let. Go. Of. Her." she demanded, "She's no longer your sister."

The words were insufferable. How dare she? She left me! All of this was no ones fault but  _hers._

Vincent made no attempt at her commands, still clutching me tightly against him, shielding me from the deadly gun in our mother's hands. 

"Mallory!" mom bellowed, and a second after he slided away from me towards the staircase that led up to the second floor. He flailed after me with his arms but some invisible force were keeping him edged to the first step with no chance of coming back to me. 

Mom stepped closer to me, close enough for me to look the barrel right in the eye.

"My soul is lost and so is hers, but I can still save you, Vincent." she whined, as if to make right of the unforgivable actions she's been doing to me ever since she left. 

"My soul is lost because of you!" I spat at her in pure hatred, my eyes watering with tears that threatened to fall and break me completely. She looked at me, apologetically, her eyes filled with tears as well. 

"If I could undo your birth to save you the agony, believe me, I would without thinking twice." she sniffed but kept the gun steadily, "I was devastated for your sake when I realized that the prophecy had come true. With my own, sweet daughter." a few teardrops made their way down her aging cheek and fell down onto her navy blue cotton blouse. 

I wailed out in complete fury, tears running down my cheeks, most likely sounding like a crazy person while doing so but I was defeated in agonizing pain with the now very evident realization that my own mother have given up on me. 

"I haven't succumbed to any fucking prophecy! I can still be saved yet you choose the easy way out. You're a  _coward_! You left me there!" I howled, letting my feelings get the better of me as I fell to my knees with my head hanging low, my shoulder length hair covering my eyes and shielding me from their  _judging_  eyes. 

She crouched before me, still sniffling which only added to my pain. She wasn't  _allowed_ to feel sorry for herself. 

"Yes, you have." she spoke softly, closer to my face than I felt comfortable with. I  _despised_ her and every word that left her egoistical lips. "He has decided your place with him already and I think you know it too. I've  _seen_ it. You might think you can suppress it now but soon, it'll be too unbearable. You were brought into this earth to be by his side. It's a evil  _destiny_ and even if you don't believe me, I'm truly sorry for allowing it to happen." 

I looked up at her, our tearful eyes meeting each other. 

"You saw what he did to me?" 

She nodded painfully, still holding my gaze. The gun gave a soft  ** _click_** as she cocked it and put it against my temple. 

"Jenna, you can't-" A thin, brown haired witch argued only to be hushed by her. 

"I  _have_ to!" she cried, pushing the gun harder into my skin. Her finger pressed the trigger slowly and I waited for the darkness to engulf me. I pictured a peaceful place where I could walk in a forest like the one at home. My safe haven.. 

The witches and Vincent screamed out in pure horror and I backed away into the wall in fright. 

Mom's body caught flame before she was able to pull the trigger. The last thing I heard before she disappeared into nothingness was her agonizing howl of pain that echoed throughout the house. 

That scream would haunt me forever. 

"Oh my God!" The girl mom had addressed as Mallory gasped out as she stared at the spot mom had stood in only seconds before. 

"The devil reclaimed her soul." another woman spoke from the doorway. She looked me over and I could sense the power oozing off of her.

That must be their Supreme. 

"It was foolish of her to think it would be that easy to kill the bride of Antichrist. She's  _protected_."


	6. You drive me crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so this isn't going to follow the story much but it needed to be written for Samantha's character. I hope you like it anyway!

The gun that had proposed a grave threat to me lied in the spot mom had been standing.

Alone. 

Untouched. 

Vincent was howling with pain, tears running down his cheeks - on his knees by the stairs, his bloodshot and wet eyes eyeing me with judgement. 

He was  _blaming_ me. 

The witches had flocked themselves around their queen and the two new faces which had arrived with her. A blonde, mean-looking young woman and a dark-skinned man that presumably was closer to Cordelia agewise. 

 _Everyone's_ eyes were on me, some concerned, some scared and most of them repulsed.

My eyes were fixed upon that gun and I found it strange that no one had made an attempt to get it out of my reach. I could easily grab it within a second and blow a hole right through their queen's head. 

They were hesitating for some reason. 

"We could use her as leverage." the blonde mean-looking woman suggested as she nodded towards me. 

"She's a human being." Mallory argued, looking the other woman over with deep worry. 

"Uhm, are you sure about that? I mean, did you actually  _see_ what she did to her own mother? That's some next level inhuman action!" a hefty, dark-skinned girl with a giant bow on top of her dark hair replied, eyes engulfed with uncertainty at my innocence. 

"She didn't do  _that_ per se." Cordelia spoke matter-of-factly as she cleared the group that has formed around her, by walking towards me slowly. "Like I said; she's  _protected_." she finished as she came to an halt in front of me. She squatted down before me, shielding the gun from me by her slender frame. 

"Protected by what? Michael? Satan..?" the man asked hesitantly, his arms crossed over his chest to display some sort of calmness that everyone in the room already knew he didn't possess. 

And then something hit me - I recognized this man. I've seen him before. Somewhere. 

"I don't know exactly, Behold."  Cordelia replied truthfully. Her soft brown eyes found mine and what I saw almost knocked me over. Calm, sincere kindness and warmth. Nowhere close to everyone else's eyes in here and still, she seemed to know the most about me and my  _destiny_. 

"You referred to her as 'the bride of the Antichrist'.  _How_ do you know that's her role in all of this?" he seemed sceptical to me as he seized me over, "I hardly believe Micheal is gonna run after some girl when he has all of this-"

"She's not just  _some_ girl. She may look like one, to you, but that's probably exactly what she's supposed to do. I can  _feel_ her power, Behold." 

"I can feel it too." the woman I attacked earlier spoke up to everyone's surprise. "And it's not pleasant." she finished, pulling out the rug out under my feet and made way for complete chaos. 

The blonde and the hefty witches began throwing accusations at me immediately and even some more suggestions on how they could  _use_ me to their advantage. 

Vincent walked over to us and put his hand carefully on Cordelia's shoulder while his eyes were fixed upon the floor, obviously to avoid my eyes. 

"I think they're right, Ms Goode." the words escaped his lips as sharp as a thousand knives. "I know that this wouldn't be your first choice but I actually think it could work."

Cordelia glanced at him, seriousness taking over the former kindness as she pondered the suggestion over. 

"Just let me go." I begged, after minutes of silence. My voice were thick with anguish and tiredness. "Please." I added for good measure, thinking for one second that she would fall for my current helplessness. 

Cordelia stood up proudly, her eyes avoiding mine in the same manor as Vincent's. 

"We won't be able to bound her to the house by any spell. It's a high chance it'll only backfire." she spoke up for everyone.

"What?" I questioned, sincerely stunned by her abrupt choice. Only seconds ago she seemed to be willing to give me a chance, to even back me up, but now.. 

It was because of what that blonde, older witch had said. I was sure of it. 

"What do you suggest?" Behold asked, his arms falling to his sides, ready to take action. 

"The shed." she exhaled heavily. "Make sure you don't hurt her physically when you carry her over there."

"No!" I exclaimed, getting up on my feet as quickly as I possibly could and shield myself from them by throwing my arms around vividly. 

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Sam." Vincent tried to negotiate, his voice way to soft for the current situation. 

It made me  _angry_. 

He took one step closer to me and I threw my clenched fist his way, aiming for his familiar face that once gave me all the peace in the world by just looking at it. He had always protected me. At home, in school.. No matter what. 

Everyone pointed their finger at me, blaming me for evil while the only thing I could feel was their  _unforgivable_ betrayals. 

Behold closed in on me from the other side, his arms in front of him, ready to grab me and put me away like some soulless animal. 

"Get away from me!" I bellowed, still throwing my fists around, making it difficult for them to complete their task. 

"It's going to be okay." Behold nodded in false assurement, gaining in on me further. 

"Just knock the bitch out!" the mean-looking witch called out. 

I  _screamed_ out at the top of my lungs. The defeaning, animalistic sound that escaped my lips made everyone present cover their ears, protecting themselves from having their eardrums completely crushed. 

I pushed the stunned Behold out of my way as I ran to the door as fast as my small legs could muster. 

I took three stairs at a time and in a flash I was out through the gate, running out on the open street while the academy was growing smaller and smaller as I rushed into an alleyway to avoid persecution.

* * *

6 days. 

For six days I've been on the run. 

Fortunately for me, I had been smart enough to bring some money along on the journey. At least, I had a roof over my head every night. Cheap motels mostly, but they were suitable enough. 

I was glad that I had a room of my own even if it only was for one night.

Since the visions began four days ago. 

Such incredibly intolerable pain, close to grief, forced itself on me. My mind felt like an open theatre. Sometimes, I could see Michael before me, lost and hurt and other times I saw a blazing fire that made the smoke raise all the way to the sky. 

The worst part were not the visions. 

It was the undeniable urge to  _find_ him. 

Every fiber in my body screamed for me to take action, surely as one would feel if a loved family member was in trouble. 

I couldn't find a way to make it stop. 

When I sensed every bit of pain that I had understood really belonged to Michael, I cried. 

I was in agony when he was, even if I didn't even know what actually had happened to him. 

Maybe they had found him and bounded him to hell where he belongs and now he calls out for me to come and get him out? 

No. 

That wasn't it. 

This was not intentionally. 

I cried my eyes sore, I barely was able to get any oxygen into my lungs by the intense wave of tears that crashed over me every hour. It came in shorter intervals now and much more painful. 

It was as if my body punished me for my lack of action. 

Ten hours of sleep in four days and one single apple to cure my hunger. 

I couldn't feed, I couldn't sleep. 

I had to make it  _stop_ before I went ultimately bat-shit crazy. 

* * *

I knew exactly where I was going without actually having a clue. 

It was as if my legs carried me on their own with the help of some unknown and invincible GPS. 

I walked and walked, my feet killing me from being overworked but the  _urge_ fought its way through and won thoroughly over any basic human discomfort. 

The house that had been pictured, over and over again in my head, was now in front of me. 

He was in there. 

I could  _feel_ him as his being drove mine in. 

I walked up to the porch and turned the door handle, my usual normal politeness blown away with the wind. 

I was welcomed by an excessive amount of expensive furnitures in the dimly lit hall/living room area but I didn't wait one second to take every impressive item in as my legs kept moving and carried me up the stairs to the second floor. 

It was dark enough to blind me up here but I still kept walking, like a goddamn robot, a prisoner in my own body and mind. 

I reached out and my hand encircled a door handle firmly, with one tug I opened it and entered a bedroom that was light enough for me to actually see my environment thanks to the lamp placed on the nightstand beside an impressive king-sized bed. 

An occupied bed. 

I didn't  _need_ to look twice to know who it was because I could already feel the heat radiating off from him and absorbing the last piece of sanity I possessed. 

Without any further hesitation on my behalf, I eased myself out of my dress and walked up to him where he lied on his back wearing nothing but a pair of blue boxers, his features soft and calm in deep sleep. 

I crawled up on the bed, no shame in being in nothing but my panties as I straddled him determinedly. 

His eyes flew open, surprised blue looking into my tired, bloodshot gray.

Michael grabbed me by the neck and brought my face closer to his, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. 

"I thought I was dreaming.." he confessed in a sleep induced voice, still holding me close to him. 

I hushed him softly, making it clear that I didn't want to exchange  _words_. 

He understood immediately and didn't speak another word.

He brought his soft lips on mine and kissed me as if he had been starving to feel me. 

Oh, I felt the same. 

Our noses and front teeth collided clumsily with each other but we didn't cease our actions one bit. 

We were literally  _starving_. 

Boxers were pushed down and panties were pushed to the side before we once again became connected in pure bliss. 

I did not hesitate one second as I retreated from his plump lips to put my palms on his soft chest and began moving my hips. 

This was so foreign to me yet I moved instinctively out of my insatiable lust and did one hell of a job too since he took a firm grip on either side of my hips with his warm hands. 

And  _moaned_. 

His pleasure spurred me on to the point where I became a moaning mess as well, my nails digging its way into the skin on his chest with each sound passing my red, swollen lips. 

The most exciting thing about the whole thing wasn't how full he felt inside of me or the explicit sounds we made but how we kept eye contact without breaking it once.

Our eyes spoke the words our mouths didn't. 

How much we  _need_ each other. 

How peaceful our company is to each other, how we've been longing.

And of course how fucking  _amazing_ it feels to fuck one another, finally.  

The first time was purely for the sake of creating the bond, now it's out of pure carnal lust. 

We belong to each other. 

Touched by no one else. 

Ironically christianity-like, probably. 

Well, it would've been if we weren't fucking like animals. 

I was riding him like my life depended on it, knowing that it surely would drive him over the edge any time now. 

Not before me, though. 

Ecstasy would be a pity explanation to what I was feeling as I clenched around him, moaning out a few profanities, but I kept going since fatigue didn't seem to be anything my body experienced anymore. 

To watch this out of the world-beautiful man's face scrunch up in divine pleasure at my actions caused me to melt completely. 

The way he furrowed his brows and digged his fingers into my hips while his eyes burned with indescribable emotions brought me into beast mode. 

I rocked my hips as hard and fast as I was able to - the bed protested dearly at the rapid movements causing the room to be filled with our loud moans along with its repetitive whining.

Michael's orgasm was _intense_. He growled deep down in his throat lowly before he groaned out once, twice, three times all the while bucking his own hips up to meet mine, milking himself off of every drop of him inside of me. 

I fell down right on top of him, breathless and glistening with sweat, my face buried in the crook of his neck. 

His arms encircled me protectively. 

"You won't regret your decision." he promised me earnestly, hugging me tightly, almost desperately. As if I was to disappear if he didn't. 

He didn't need to say anything. 

I just  _knew_.

He had recently lost someone. 

 

 


End file.
